


Unfinished

by dontletitbreakyourhearts



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-03-21 13:20:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3693767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontletitbreakyourhearts/pseuds/dontletitbreakyourhearts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There was a problem that hadn’t been solved yet, no matter how long he thought on it. There was a problem that he had to keep forcing to the back of his mind since Sherlock Holmes had appeared in his life again. Jim was beginning to have a problem with the fact that he had this particular problem to deal with when there were so many more interesting things he could be doing with his time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It was unlike James Moriarty to leave things unfinished. That’s why Sebastian was surprised to come home to his boss asleep on the couch surrounded my half-consumed cups of tea. Sebastian tried to sneak past the couch to drop his rifle off in the closet on the way to shut himself in his room. There was obviously something wrong here, and he didn’t want any part of it. The boss could be a little edgy at times and he had a tendency to take it out on Sebastian. He had just begun to turn the handle on the closet door when Jim woke with a start and began coughing. The one time Sebastian wanted him to be properly asleep and he wasn’t.

“Moran! You’re back. Good. I suppose everything went according to plan?” Jim spoke as he sat up and reached for the cup closest to him.

“Yeah. Yeah, ’s all fine now. Sorted it out. What’s happened here?”

“What? Oh. Nothing, nothing. Just haven’t had much to do since you left. Bring me another cup of tea, would you? This one’s gone cold.” Jim’s speech was punctuated by sniffles and the occasional cough. His boss was in denial about being sick and it was apparently up to Sebastian to fix that. Because if he didn’t solve this problem, Jim was likely to become very frustrated and order Sebastian to shoot a mass of people in a fit of rage. While he wasn’t strictly opposed to that idea, he didn’t think it’d fare well for his boss’ reputation.

“Yeah, well that cuppa’s not the only thing’s gone cold ‘round here.”

“What on Earth are you talking about, Sebastian?”

“You, boss. You’ve gone and got yourself sick. Don’t deny it. Bed. Now.” Sebastian pointed down the hall and stared at Jim. Jim just stared back until he coughed again and realised this was one fight he wasn’t going to win. He begrudgingly dragged himself off the couch and down the hall.

Sebastian followed. Jim flopped himself down on the bed, oozing displeasure. Sebastian let out a sigh and tugged the duvet out from underneath his boss.

“I gotta do everything for you? You’re gonna get some proper sleep. And I don’t wanna hear you complain, got that?” he said as he threw the cover back down, this time on top of Jim. He was already dozing off and muttering something incoherent in return to Sebastian’s question.

“’S what I thought,” he mumbled as he turned to leave.

 

~

 

Jim needed to think. Sebastian had kept him all but locked in his room in order to get him to recover. He hadn’t even been sick in the first place, maybe just a little tired, is all. Though he did appreciate the nearly endless varieties of soup Moran had produced during his quarantine. It seemed his sniper had picked up some other talents while traveling the world, a fact he filed away for use at a later time.

He grabbed his phone and checked his email. Having left everything to run basically on its own for a little over three days, it was time to check in.

_Well, things could be worse. One contractor down, but it’s not like his life was an entirely reliable thing anyway. Good motivation, but an aneurism just doesn’t play out in the long run._ Sherlock Holmes was going to get in his way. Especially now that he had picked up this Watson character.

Jim let out a sigh. The fun he could have had if Sherlock hadn’t associated himself with someone so disgustingly ordinary. John Watson got in Jim Moriarty’s way before Sherlock Holmes even had a chance to.

 

~

 

“Shoes. Really? Am I missing something?”

“I’m sending a message. Didn’t think I could be any more obvious.”

Sebastian bit back his comment about Jim being wholly vague about their entire trip, and subsequent break-in, to 221 Baker Street. He stopped and turned to look at his boss from the fireplace where he was setting up a small camera and a transmitter. Jim took notice of his pause and hesitated before he softly said, “It’s where I started. It’s where we started. I’ve kept them, just in case.” He paused for a moment, as if debating whether he wished to continue before he said, “We’re going to finish something that started a very long time ago, Sebastian.” He sat back, eyes flicking over the pair of old trainers he had placed in the centre of the room, but his thoughts were obviously not in this room. This was not the ideal time for Jim to disappear down the rabbit hole. Sebastian quickly tucked the transmitter into the back corner of the fireplace, ensuring that it was well enough hidden, and slowly positioned himself behind the shoes- directly across from Jim.

“Hey. Jim. Look at me.” All he got was a quick flick of dull, distant brown eyes. “Jim. Just look at me. Please.” The darting eyes stopped, and finally rose to meet Sebastian’s own. “It’s okay. You don’t have to tell me. Not now.”

Jim blinked three times in rapid succession, nodded, and said quickly, “We’ve been here too long. We need to go as soon as you get the camera set.”

“’S done already. C’mon.” Sebastian pulled Jim to his feet, guided him out of the dark, tiny flat, and into the street. He led them to a darkened doorway, where he tucked his small, lost boss against his chest until he was found again.

 

~

 

“MORAN!” came the shout form the other room. Sebastian left his rifle on the table where he had been cleaning it. He found Jim laying on the couch with tented fingers resting under his chin, much unlike how he had found him earlier that week. A laptop was open on the coffee table, displaying ‘The Personal Blog of Dr John H Watson’, along with a phone in a garish pink case that Sebastian had never seen before.

“Find as much Semtex as you can. I need it.”

“Alright, but what’re we gonna do? Blow up Parliament?”

“Oh, please. Nothing so dull. We’re going to play a game.”

At least that explained the new phone, and why they had planted a pair of twenty year old trainers in a dark basement flat last week. He refrained from rolling his eyes, silently cursing the lack of forthcoming information, and decided to get the only answer he could.

“When do we start?”

“Tomorrow evening. Go.”

 

~

 

Jim Moriarty was not particularly a fan of hospitals. It wasn’t the injured, the sick, or the dying, it was the fact that they were struggling to continue their lives on this tedious plane of existence. It was beyond him how such boring, ordinary humans couldn’t see that the time they were spending here was being wasted. Everyone was going to die someday, and he didn’t see the point of intervening, attempting to save a life that would be otherwise squandered in monotony.

It wasn’t as bad in the labyrinthian basement of laboratories and storage; there were no patients, just the occasional technician or doctor. He was staked out in this hallway with a laptop, hanging around a router that was mounted on the wall near the ceiling. It hadn’t been difficult for Jim to make himself seem like he belonged working here. No one really paid notice to anyone who worked in IT. The IT department didn’t really do anything to warrant any attention, but everyone always assumed that they were working on something important, so he had been left alone whenever he had shown up to see Molly in the past few weeks.

Molly Hooper. She had been his way in. Jim knew it was dangerous meeting Sherlock like this, but he just couldn’t resist. Sebastian wasn’t too keen on this part of his plan either once he found out where he had been sneaking off to for a few hours each day.

 

“You’re seriously taking this risk? Gonna put yourself directly in his line of sight so that he can figure out who you are?” Sebastian had questioned after he had been informed of the upcoming encounter.

“It won’t be a risk. I’m not going to stay long, and I’ll be properly disguised.”

“That’s not what I mean, and you fuckin’ know it. You lost it in a room with a fuckin’ pair of shoes. He wasn’t even there, and now you want to actually be in his physical presence? I’m not convinced you can keep it together long enough to do this. It’d be another thing if it were _you_ meeting him, and not some fake version of yourself.”

Jim had glared at Sebastian for a good five seconds before realizing the man had a valid point. “I promise I won’t stay there long. It’s touching, really, how concerned about me you are.”

Sebastian paused before he replied. “Just concerned about this plan of yours, ‘s all.”

“I’ll be home around eight. Be a dear and keep an eye on everything while I’m busy?”

Jim found himself gripping the chain around his neck. From it, hung Sebastian’s old identification tags from his military days. If he really was that concerned about Jim, then a little piece of him would just have to stay close. He would, one day soon, have to explain this particular part of his past to his dear little sniper to retain his loyalty. Everyone else was replaceable. Sebastian Moran was half of a list of people who were not.

He heard a familiar set of footsteps in the hall, Molly had returned to the lab to continue helping Sherlock. She would follow that man to the end of the known universe and back if he asked her to, that much was evident from the conversations Jim had had with her in the past few days. Pulling information about the detective out of Molly had been surprisingly easy. He had but to sit back and listen after a conversational nudge towards the information he wanted, and had ended up with quite a bit more than he needed for his game to really take hold in that great intellect of Sherlock’s.

Jim waited a beat after Molly entered the lab, and followed her in, deciding to play slightly surprised that there were other people in the lab, despite having his phone number on a slip of paper in his pocket, which he intended to get to Sherlock one way or another. He was thankful for the soft, shy persona of ‘Jim from IT’. It allowed him to contribute minimally to Molly’s introduction because, even though he had prepared for this, Jim was transfixed with the sight of Sherlock’s lean form and dark curls bent over a microscope.

“Jim, this is Sherlock Holmes, and uh…”

“John Watson. Hi.”

Jim afforded John a quick, dismissive glance, not meeting his eyes, and directed his greeting towards that mass of black curls. Molly hadn’t even remembered his name, and it was obvious from his tight, controlled features, crossed arms and positioning behind Sherlock that they had been in the middle of debating a point of contention. Yes, John Watson was very much obstructing Sherlock’s focus on the work, so Jim positioned himself between the good doctor and the detective while Molly babbled about how they met. Sherlock looked at him for less than a second before blurting out his deduction (accurate, given what Jim had constructed this identity for), and then a quick apology and a “hey”. Jim took the opportunity to slip his number under a dish while everyone was still distracted by the exchange. He needed to make his exit before things got too awkward and everyone started asking too many questions.

“Well, I’d better be off.” He confirmed his evening plans with Molly who, poor thing, seemed like she was trying to prove Sherlock’s little deduction wrong. “It was nice to meet you,” he directed at Sherlock, while placing a reassuring hand on Molly’s back. He didn’t want this to fall apart quite yet, not now that Molly was definitely angry with Sherlock. People have such a tendency to divulge more information than they intended when they were angry.

Sherlock had already dismissed his presence completely, not registering Jim’s farewell. “You too,” John chimed in when it was obvious to him that Sherlock didn’t have a forthcoming response. Jim looked at him and realised that John Watson was the thing in this world that allowed Sherlock to interface with the normal, ordinary, boring people who surrounded him- who distracted him.

Jim blinked twice and took his leave as he decided that he couldn’t put an end to Sherlock Holmes if John Watson was still part of his life.

 

           

~~           

 

 

Jim was late. Sebastian knew he had an “office job” and a “girlfriend” now, but he should have been home a little more than two hours ago. Whatever was happening, it definitely wasn’t good, so Sebastian decided to prepare. He grabbed the pistol he kept hidden by their sofa, positioned himself where he had a view of the flat’s front door in the mirror in the entryway, and waited. The door handle turned 46 minutes and 37 seconds later. Sebastian took aim. He did not expect what happened next, though. Jim came waltzing through the door, removing his coat and looking positively giddy.

“An’ just where the _hell_ have you been?”

“Out.”

“Out?”

“Yes.” The fact that his boss was being deliberately obtuse did not escape Sebastian.

“With?”

“Molly.”

“You mean that –“

“Mouse, yes. I let her break up with me but that doesn’t _matter_. I met him, Sebastian. Well, rather, he mostly ignored me while I looked, and oh, he’s got this hair I just want to _grab_ and what I wouldn’t give to _pick him apart_ _bit by bit_ starting with that gorgeous br—“

Sebastian had crossed to Jim in three quick steps, caught him across the throat with his forearm and forced him against the wall, pinning him there.

Well, if that’s how the evening was going to go, Jim was going to use it to his advantage. He had just gone through a devastating breakup, after all.

“Ohhhhh, Sebastian. Would you rather I pull _you_ apart? Maybe I’ll start with your hands.” His voice had dropped to a whisper as he ran a single finger over the back of Sebastian’s clenched fist. “Well, that’s not going to work now, is it? Really now.” Sebastian refrained from rolling his eyes and snapped his hand open, keeping his fingers rigid in a sort of silent protest to where this night was quickly heading.

“No, no. Don’t even think about it. Not after your little outburst.” Jim never broke eye contact as he continued his slow examination of his sniper’s long, tapered fingers. A smile twisted the corners of the Irishman’s lips as he slowed at the end of Sebastian’s index finger- the one always responsible for pulling the trigger.

Sebastian shuddered and dropped his arm back to his side, but didn’t move. He knew he was in trouble and if he moved, things would only become much worse.

“Or maybe I start with your heart,” he said, and slipped a hand under Sebastian’s shirt, laying it in the centre of his chest. “You’ve already shown it to me, so why don’t I just take it?” He trailed his other hand up the taller man’s neck, hooked a well-manicured finger under his chin and pulled him closer. Jim felt Sebastian’s eyes flutter shut, his breath catch, and smiled. He resisted the temptation to run his tongue across the pulse point in Sebastian’s neck as he leaned closer to whisper, “Or would you rather that I just break you completely?” He punctuated the last question with a bite to Sebastian’s earlobe. He gasped and his head fell forward. Jim’s smile widened and he responded by sinking his teeth into the curve where his sniper’s neck met his shoulder.

“That’s what I thought.”

 

~

 

Sebastian didn’t exactly know who this “Sherlock Holmes” was. He didn’t particularly want to know either, though he had managed to piece together a couple of things from what Jim had let slip and the exceptionally elaborate game they had been embroiled in for these past few days.

He’d gone to set up in the rafters of the pool a few hours previously. It wasn’t exactly easy to figure out how to manage six laser pointers in addition to his rifle. The laser sights had been insisted upon, even though they were wildly inaccurate, but he had been ensured that he probably wouldn’t be called upon to actually pull a trigger tonight. Not that the sights would really matter in such a small space. Jim had really just wanted a show of power, but he wasn’t exactly in a trusting mood, so it was up to Sebastian to look like more than one sniper. Anyway, he found it better to be out of the flat when his boss was on edge. And today was worse than most.

His mobile rang. “I need you to pick someone up. And then we’re going to the pool. He’s going to want to meet at midnight. It’s rather dramatic.”

Sebastian could hear the suppressed excitement in Jim’s voice. Excitement, and what he was sure was approval. “Oh yes. These meetings can never take place at a time that’s not sufficiently dramatic. May I inquire as to who is accompanying us to our late night engagement?”

Jim ignored the mockery and annoyance coming from Sebastian’s end of the phone and simply said, “John Watson.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I'm not entirely sure how long this will end up being due to the fact that it started as a tiny little one-off story and sort of got a bit out of hand. But I promise it will not remain unfinished (please don't be confused by the title), though updates may be a bit sporadic, and for that, I apologise in advance.
> 
> There is also the potential that I may have to fudge the timeline a bit, but I'm certain that no one will really mind.
> 
> (And a very large thank you to aTableofGreen for proofreading and generally motivating me to finish this first chapter.)


	2. Chapter 2

“My dear Doctor Watson. I’d thank you for joining us on this fine night, but, well. Sorry,” Jim was nearly singing with joy. Ever the one to add a bit of drama, he had positioned himself halfway in the shadows of a receded doorway of the small hallway as his newly arrived captive regained consciousness. “No, no. Don’t get up, darling. It won’t be pretty. Anyway, just while you’re here, I need your help with a little something,” Jim emerged from the shadows and continued, “See, I’ve recently found myself with a problem. You see, there’s this dashing young detective and his adorable little blogger running around London, and they are beginning to pose certain, shall we say, obstacles.”

 John had just managed to sit up as he approached. Jim made eye contact before pointedly stating, “You’re getting in my way.,. I am going to put an end to this distraction of yours, doctor. It is, of course, entirely up to you as to how this all ends. You could leave tonight, after our chat with your better half, never to see the darling detective again, or you stick around and see what happens. Your choice.”

John opened his mouth to speak, but Jim swiftly pressed a long forefinger to the doctor’s lips. “Please, you don’t think I’m going to tell you my plans now, do you? And right about now you’ve noticed your newly acquired earpiece and quite stylish parka. I take it you know how this goes from here. See you in a bit, dearie,” Jim turned and waved back at John Watson as he walked out the door.

 

~

           

Sebastian couldn’t help but roll his eyes at his current situation, especially since Jim wasn’t around to make a comment about it. He was currently hidden in the observation deck of a small pool with his rifle and several laser pointers aimed towards the opposite side of the pool deck, towards the detective and his blogger. Jim’s insufferable behaviour over the course of the past few weeks was almost worth it when Sebastian caught the look of betrayal that crossed Sherlock Holmes’ face- the split second before John Watson began to speak Jim’s words- the moment he thought his precious blogger was the mysterious Moriarty, though it was a little disappointing that Jim wasn’t actually able to see it.

Sebastian was still uncertain about the past Jim had with Sherlock, and though he had pieced together the tiny bits of information that Jim had, possibly intentionally, let slip, he wasn’t sure how one little murder had led to the escalated situation he now found himself in. ( _An escalated situation which apparently involves a great deal of flirting on Jim’s end of the conversation_. _Wonderful_ , he thought.) Sebastian tried not to listen much to keep from either shining a laser into someone’s eyes or firing a warning shot past Jim’s head. Or, rather,, he wasn’t listening until Jim started shouting. He had moved much too close to the doctor and the detective for Sebastian’s taste. At least he still had clean shots for now.

“You can talk now, Johnny boy,” Jim teased as he walked past Watson to retrieve the flash drive from Holmes. Sebastian had never seen Jim be so cute. ( _There has got to be a better word for whatever that is_ ). Usually, Jim’s meetings were grounded in intimidation, which was provided mostly by his reputation. It kept things tidy, and his boss out of harm’s way, so Sebastian wasn’t entirely surprised when the brave little doctor decided to try to save his detective.

“Oh, good!” came Jim’s delighted response to his restraint by the smaller man. “He’s sweet. I can see why you like having him around. But then, people so get so sentimental about their pets. They’re so touchingly loyal.” Jim’s words, as lightly as they may have been said, were meant to wound, but something told Sebastian that it wasn’t meant to be immediate. He knew Jim intended to draw this little game out for a great while. His rifle turned to Holmes’ head as Jim laughed, “I’m afraid you’ve rather shown your hand there, Doctor Watson.” A nod from the detective set Jim free as he sang “Gotcha!’

Jim was enjoying this way too much to realise that he was too close for Sebastian to react in time if Holmes made a move to pull the trigger. Jim made one last threat, and before Sebastian knew it Jim was saying his farewell, which was cut short by the detective’s question, “And what if I was to shoot you now? Right now?”

The sniper stilled his aim over Holmes’ heart, the laser that had been trained on Watson’s laid unchecked on the ledge near his elbow. “Well, then. You could cherish the look of surprise on my face. Because I’d be surprised, Sherlock. Really I would. And just a teensy bit,” Jim paused as if searching for the right word, but also leaving the sentence unfinished as to delay a bullet, “disappointed,” he finally settled on. “And of course, you wouldn’t be able to cherish it for very long.” The reminder that there was someone else holding a rifle diffused the threat of Jim having a bullet put in his brain, and he then took his leave with a soft, “Ciao, Sherlock Holmes.” Sebastian was able to relax for a moment once Jim was out of imminent danger. At least, until his mobile began silently buzzing in his pocket.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the short chapter! I shall strive to make the next one longer, but just didn't want to go too long without updating (because it's already been too long, in my opinion. Sorry about that.)


	3. Chapter 3

“What?” Sebastian hissed, pressing the phone close to his ear.

“Well? What are they doing?” came Jim’s hushed, yet rapid response.

“Pretty much what you’d expect. Holmes’s checked the exits, debated whether or not to come after you, thanked Watson for trying to save his life, and now they’re joking about removing each others’ clothes in an abandoned pool. You know, the usu-”

The audio crackled as Jim let out an exasperated sigh. “Didn’t I make it obvious enough? I mean really. I’m putting an end to him. Do try not to let us explode, though.”

Jim terminated the call. _As if I’d let you be here with actual explosives in the first place_ , Sebastian thought as he reactivated the lasers.

 ~

Jim burst back into the room. “Sorry, boys! I’m so changeable! It is a weakness of mine, but, to be fair, it is my only weakness.”

_Now there’s a lie_ , Sebastian mused. _If there’s anyone who’s shown their hand tonight, it’s you, James._

“You can’t be allowed to continue. You just can’t. I would try to convince you, but everything I have to say has already crossed your mind.”

“And probably my answer has crossed yours.” The detective took aim, first at Jim, then at the vest.

_Called that one._ Sebastian also took aim, but not at Holmes. He had finally pieced together what this little stunt was about and took aim at Jim’s real target. John Watson would be the only one to die here tonight, destroying Holmes’ heart, and leaving Jim to pick up the pieces. That was why he was in the observation deck instead of at Jim’s side. There could be no one else for the detective to go to. Jim would be his only way out.

Sebastian drew a breath, checked his aim, and was suddenly interrupted by smooth disco music. “That’s still your fucking ringtone?” he exhaled. Sebastian had changed it as a joke while Jim crashed after 96 solid hours of consciousness. Ringtones weren’t exactly high on Jim’s list, but judging from the look on his boss’ face, it should have been a little more of a priority. A small smile tugged at the corners of Sebastian’s mouth because it obviously hadn’t annoyed Jim enough to change it immediately after discovering it, and maybe it would serve as a reminder to attempt to take care of himself.

“Do you mind if I get that?” he asked, irked mostly at the interruption.

“Oh, no. Please! You’ve got the rest of your life.” Sebastian silently lamented the fact that he wasn’t allowed to just shoot everyone here and get on with his life. Jim answered the call, and Holmes’ aim wandered after a meteoric response from Jim, who snapped at the caller to wait. Jim took a second to recalculate before stepping forward.

“Sorry. Wrong day to die.”

“Oh. Did you get a better offer?”

Jim hurried to put an end to the meeting, now making as little eye contact with the detective as possible to hide his disappointment that Sherlock would not be coming with them tonight. “You’ll be hearing from me, Sherlock,” he promised. He turned away from the detective and the doctor and carried on with the phone call. With a snap of his fingers before exiting the pool, he signalled Sebastian to remove the lasers and his rifle and let the two go.

 

~

 

“What the hell just happened?” Sebastian snapped as he closed the car door. He looked in the rear view mirror. Jim was taking up much less space than usual and Sebastian was convinced that he would be staring a hole through the back of the passenger’s seat if his eyes had been focused at all. It was a look he had only seen on Jim’s face once before, and Sebastian did not care to relive that experience. He’d acquired enough scars from Jim Moriarty, directly or not, and would prefer to avoid gaining any more tonight. Sebastian quickly formulated a plan to put as much distance between his boss and the events of tonight as possible before they had to deal with whoever was on the other side of that phone call. Sebastian started the car. “Jim?’ he started, softly. “We’re going home. You’re going to have a nice cup of tea, and then you’re going to sleep.” Jim responded by shifting in his seat to stare up at the stars through the window. _At least it’s a clear sky_ , Sebastian thought, _not that it’s going to matter much driving through the city._ Jim’s brow furrowed a bit at the realisation that light pollution would interfere with his view, and Sebastian decided that it wouldn’t hurt anyone if he just happened to drug his employer’s tea when they finally made it home.

 

~

 

This was the second time in recent memory that Jim had woken up in his own bed without any recollection of how he came to be there. He went to grab his phone to check his email, but instead found a note.

 

_Get dressed and come eat some toast._

_-S_

 

Jim pulled the paper closer to his face, unsure if he was reading it correctly- everything felt fuzzy- distant. Almost as if…There it was. A faint chemical taste in the back of his mouth. He crushed the note in his hand and pulled on the deep red jumper set out on the foot of his bed and made his way, unsteadily, to the kitchen.

 

Sebastian shut his laptop when he heard Jim’s bedroom door open. Slices of bread were toasted, buttered, and on the table by the time Jim made it to the kitchen. He opened his mouth to speak, but Sebastian interrupted. “Toast?” he asked, barely attempting to control his smirk. Seeing Jim completely dishevelled- hair gone mad and jumper twisted slightly around his torso from his journey down the hallway- was enough to make him smile outright, but that wasn’t a line he was quite ready to cross this morning. Instead, he gestured to the chair opposite him at the table.

“Yes, did you drug me, and why just toast?” Jim’s eyes finally focused on Sebastian’s as he sat down and picked up his breakfast.

“You’re an intelligent man. Of course I drugged you, what did you expect?”

“Okay, yeah, I figured that out. Why?”

This was nearly too much for Sebastian to handle. Jim was trying to be his normal, intimidating self, but was still just out of it enough that he couldn’t put any venom behind his line of questioning. Sebastian took a moment to force back the smile that was threatening to emerge any second before he replied, “We both needed some time, you needed to sleep, and the toast is so you don’t get sick because that would make both our lives miserable.”

Jim closed his eyes and quickly recapped the events of the night before, or at least the ones he could remember. “So things didn’t quite go as expected. You could have just shot everyone and this would be over, you know.”

“No, I couldn’t have, and you know it. You only wanted one person at that pool dead.” Jim glanced at Sebastian. “You weren’t really subtle about the whole thing. You want Watson dead so that you can have Holmes to yourself. I get it. But after that phone call, you had too many possibilities to consider and you were too emotionally involved, so I put distance between you and the situation so that you could think properly. Got a problem with that?”

“No, I just…I just-“ Jim cut himself off and popped his last bite of toast into his mouth.

“You just wish I hadn’t figured out your plans for him so soon?” Jim reached across the table and stole Sebastian’s remaining piece of toast. “You don’t get my toast too,” he sighed as he plucked it back from Jim’s hand, ignoring the large chunk now missing from it. “So, who was on the phone, then?”

Jim struggled to swallow the toast in his mouth, eyes twinkling again now that the subject had changed. “Irene. We’re going to let her have some fun. Give me my phone and we can get started.” Sebastian slid the mobile across the table. “And how about we eat an actual breakfast, while we’re at it?”

“See how you feel in an hour. Then you’ll thank me.”

“Lunch?”

“Fine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's been so long since the last update! Hopefully things will work out so that I can update a bit more frequently and get a more cohesive plot going (finally). Thanks for sticking with it!


	4. Chapter 4

Jim stared up at the lab’s ceiling from where he was sprawled out on the countertop. He had shoved some equipment out of the way, but didn’t think anyone would be too concerned about a few displaced test tubes and beakers. He lay there, listening for the sound of quick footsteps and the soft rustle of a truly magnificent coat. It probably wasn’t the best idea for him to surprise Sherlock like this, but there was something he needed to figure out. There was a problem that hadn’t been solved yet, no matter how long he thought on it. There was a problem that he had to keep forcing to the back of his mind since Sherlock Holmes had appeared in his life again. Jim was beginning to have a problem with the fact that he had this particular problem to deal with when there were so many more interesting things he could be doing with his time. He crossed his arms and something small and flat pressed into his chest. Jim hadn’t realised he had put on Sebastian’s identification tags again. He wasn’t even sure he had taken them off since the day he first put them on- the day he had first met Sherlock. He tightened his arms ever so slightly, closed his eyes, and listened.

Jim wasn’t sure how long he had waited, but eventually he heard what he had been waiting for. He opened his eyes and released the tension from his body, wanting to appear relaxed despite the anticipation now flowing through him. Sherlock was suddenly standing over him, blue-green eyes searching for, and quickly gathering, the reason Jim was here.

“You’re a sneaky one, aren’t you? I didn’t even hear the door open, how did you manage that?”

“Why don’t you inform me as to why you’re rearranging my lab and maybe I’ll tell you.”

Jim tutted. “Sherlock, please. I never got to see this coat in person. I couldn’t resist.” He sat up as he spoke, now facing Sherlock and slipping a finger through the red-threaded buttonhole near Sherlock’s throat.

Sherlock’s eyes narrowed. “We both know that’s not really why you’re here. It’s terribly dull, your avoidance of the subject.”

Jim pulled Sherlock forward by the lapel, closing whatever distance there was left between them. “I don’t know why you’re in such a rush to have this conversation be over. I’m having such a nice time,” Jim pouted.

“You came here for a reason, you’re now ignoring it and I find it exceedingly tedious. I’d also like to put my lab back together, so if you don’t mind.” Sherlock gestured toward the lab door, but Jim’s hands wandered from Sherlock’s lapel to his scarf, unwinding it slowly from his neck as the detective spoke.

“Well, why don’t you just tell me why I’m here then, since you’ve already figured it out?”

“I rather think that would defeat the purpose of this scenario, don’t you?”

“Sherlock,” Jim whispered as he wound his fingers through the curls on the back of the detective’s head, “I rather think that the purpose of this scenario has been altered. Don’t you?”

“As much as you would like it to have been, no, James, it hasn’t,” Sherlock said, wrapping his long fingers around Jim’s wrists and pulling his hands away from his head. “Now tell me why you’re here or get out.”

Jim let out the tiniest of sighs. “If you know why I’m here and I know why I’m here, I really don’t see the need for us to waste time talking about it.” He edged closer to Sherlock. “Now can we agree on that and-“

Sherlock’s eyes were suddenly ablaze as he released Jim’s wrists and surged forward, an inch from his face. He seized the chain around Jim’s neck, pulling the tags out from underneath his shirt and rumbled, “Why do you need him if you’ve got me?”

Jim woke with a start, remembering why he didn’t like to make sleep a regular part of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured a (very) short update is better than no update! Thanks for sticking with me through the sporadic addition of new chapters, and I hope you're enjoying it, slow though it may be.


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